L’Olivier stays grounded in French bistro territory while still managing the occasional surprise.

In the first few months of service, Clarkson and Ciesielski also added a fabric-covered set of floor-to-ceiling panels at one end of the rectangular dining room. The partition affords them the opportunity to host private functions such as the semi-regular Duchman Family Winery dinners that have been well-attended events, but it also makes the large space seem far cozier and thoughtfully planned.

In fact, you'd never know from looking at the smartly renovated space that the personal chef for the Onassis family is now cooking out of what was once an adult bookstore.
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The extensive renovation adds to the feeling that L'Olivier is here to stay. Too many restaurants — in Houston and around the country — open to capitalize on trendy neighborhoods or cuisines. And even restaurants without a gimmicky hook simply may not survive Houston's fickle attention span. But one gets the sense while dining at L'Olivier that Ciesielski is in it for the long haul, determined to add his restaurant to a small but fierce number of Montrose stalwarts named for their like-minded chefs: Mark's American Cuisine, Da Marco, Hugo's.

Being in the game for the long run will, ideally, give Ciesielski ample time for some course corrections that would help catapult L'Olivier into those ranks. There's already been a marked improvement in the overdressed farmer's salad I tried in the first few weeks of L'Olivier's existence. Now the salad and its crispy lardons are dressed sparingly, which allows the rich yolk from an egg cooked at 62.5 degrees Fahrenheit for two hours to shine — as it rightfully should.

Certain standards like the steak frites are impeccable, with the kitchen automatically recommending a medium-rare sear on the sirloin. This keeps its rosy center juicy while providing a crusty, rustic char that's incredibly enjoyable to drag a knife through. A white paper bag on the side holds delicate curls of skinny frites with just the right touch of salt.

Chilled oysters on the half shell are served with a tart mignonette and pair wonderfully with a $12 glass of Domaine des Rochers Pouilly-Fuissé from a generous wine list that's a joint venture between Ciesielski and Leveritt.

But there are a few things lost in translation: A recent dish of buf bourguignon turned up with strange chunks of beef that were tender yet dry (I'm still not sure how that happens) over plush ribbons of pasta that was clearly homemade, but lacked salt and, therefore, any depth. Another pasta dish — ravioli filled with soft shreds of oxtail and topped with a decadent but restrained blue cheese cream sauce — was oddly textured, too. The little pockets fell apart like wet crepe paper but tasted so good that I eventually decided I was being pedantic about the whole thing.

What I like most about L'Olivier, after all, isn't a lockstep execution of dishes. It's the fact that it makes fine French food accessible — both in attitude and in price. Sure, there's an $18 lobster salad listed on the menu, but you'll get an entire lobster claw's worth of plump, sweet meat on your lettuce. Those oxtail ravioli with melted leeks will only set you back $17. And some dishes on the compact but well-stocked raw bar are pricey, but they're items you can't find at most restaurants, such as the whole sea urchin I greedily ate all by myself one day, savoring each jiggly spoonful of briny, barnyard-scented bliss scooped from inside its hollowed-out, spiny, $25 shell.

These are prices worth paying for Ciesielski's cuisine — mostly straightforward Gallic fare with tiny surprises that will make you raise an eyebrow and smile softly. So what if it's not exactly en pointe 100 percent of the time? Loiseau, Ciesielski's perfectionist mentor, committed suicide ten years ago amid rumors that the Michelin Guide was planning to demote his restaurant, La Côte d'Or, to two-star status from three.

Ciesielski isn't perfect, but he's happy. Judging by the crowded tables at L'Olivier every night, his customers are, too.

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Katharine, there is so much more to Chef Loiseau's story that his widow has recently revealed ... and the restaurant has never been demoted to two-star.

I wish i could agree with you about L'Olivier, because i had very high hopes based on Chef's history. It is very fortunate for him that you've enjoyed the restaurant so much, because not many in my "French" or foodie communities have. we were served stone cold mussels, tough chicken, foul oysters, sour paté, with apologies ensuing, but still a check for over $200 for the two of us on one occasion when we sent the mussels back twice and refused replacement oysters ... sigh .. guess i'll have to give it a fifth try ...

Recently, a dining companion and I decided to give "the best French restaurant in Houston" (according to the Press) a chance, instead of our tried-and-true French pick, Cafe Rabelais. We found L'Olivier not only disappointing, but offensively bad.

Even though it was the weekend after Valentine's day (safe to dine out, we thought), there was a Valentine's menu being offered. We chose to order off the regular menu, sticking to what we heard were the restaurant's strengths--classic dishes. Our mussels were full of sand, our steaks lacked a seared crust, the puff pastry on our apple tart was chewy and tough, and the apple tart itself was completely covered with a heavy-handed dusting of powdered sugar. The fries were good--the only truly edible part of the meal--but they were served with ketchup, which left us yearning for the homemade mayo/aioli that accompanies the frites at Cafe Rabelais, Max and Julie's, Jeaninne's, and various other French and Belgian places around town.

I would go back to L'Olivier to share a bottle of wine with a friend--the wine list was excellent and reasonably priced--but I'd need a lot of convincing to go back for dinner.

I drop in during the late afternoon hours (they stay open and welcome odd people like me who prefer a restaurant to an office)...anyway, I like his house smoked salmon with flash fried capers, the ravioli you mention and the eggs bourginon. Also that odd dessert with cream and meringue that is so uniquely French.

@SoVerySad That description doesn't comport with my handful of dinner experience there, or a couple very good lunches. But it could have been a one-off barfer, I'll grant you that. So, if you're able to recognize that it's a very good wine list (and it really is!) you're probably equally capable of understanding that regrettable, single dining experiences happen everywhere. So have the wine, but go back again to eat.

@susanterrywilhelm The rillettes are very good too; I like the way he serves a mini-jar of the stuff. And @ Bryson34, I think that dessert is called a Floating Island or something similar....a couple we sat next to one night was really excited to find it here, after living in France, and thinking it a fluke.

Based on what I heard from others, I was really surprised, too! Perhaps you're right and I'm being too hard--but often "regrettable, single dining experiences" are the result of misordering or having unrealistic expectations. I ordered two dishes that were recommended (even in this article!) as being particular strengths, and I don't think it's too much to ask for a restaurant to wash mussels before cooking and serving them. I love the idea of L'Olivier, but that experience left a bad taste in my mouth (and sand).